


The Whipping Boy

by rabidfan



Category: Stargate Atlantis
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-07
Updated: 2014-06-07
Packaged: 2018-02-03 19:00:58
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,974
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1754709
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rabidfan/pseuds/rabidfan
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Meredith Rodney McKay’s role as the royal Whipping Boy had been easy until this last year.  Once Her Majesty the Queen had lost her fight with the wasting sickness that had plagued her since the Princes’ birth John had discovered the joys of disobedience.  Not that he <i>wanted</i> his companion to take a beating for him…quite the opposite… but he didn’t seem able to hold himself back from mischief.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Whipping Boy

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks is due and payable to Lex for the beta. I literally gave this to her at the last minute and she (like always) came through! She totally rocks. Any glaring errors are not to be laid at her feet!
> 
> This is based on the beautiful art piece by anteres dw. She entitled her work “The Quiet Gentlemen”. It is not done justice here but she should know that I did my best not to make her look bad!
> 
> This is an AU. Nothing to do with Stargate but the people are all there…somewhere.

~*~

Rodney scrubbed his hand over his face. “Highness, I beg you, please climb down.” He shifted to get a better look at the boy nearing the top of the evergreen tree towering over his head. “I recall vividly what your Lord Father said he would do to me if you were to fall again, so I ask you to consider my backside with kindness and regain your footing on safe ground!” 

There was a barely audible complaint from the branches above Rodney’s head. “Fine. Fine. We’ll play it father’s way. Not a problem. I’ll just wrap myself in Healer’s gauze and sit in the corner until I reach my majority!”

Choosing to ignore the obvious sarcasm, Rodney called back, “Excellent, Your Royal Highness! A marvelous idea! I promise to sit with you if you do!”

His Royal Highness, Crown Prince Edward Charles Patrick John Paul Sheppard (John to his friends) dropped the last ten feet to land lightly at Rodney’s side. “Jesus wept, Mer. You’re such an old woman.”

“I beg of you, Your Highness, to stop calling me that. And I’m not an old woman! I just prefer not to take yet another paddling for you, my Prince.” Meredith Rodney McKay’s role as the royal Whipping Boy had been easy until this last year. Once Her Majesty the Queen had lost her fight with the wasting sickness that had plagued her since the Princes’ birth John had discovered the joys of disobedience. Not that he _wanted_ his companion to take a beating for him…quite the opposite… but he didn’t seem able to hold himself back from mischief. 

For royalty, corporal punishment would be impossible to consider. One did not strike the heir to the throne. Not even when it was deserved. No. Instead, a Whipping Boy was chosen from the poor. This innocent child was then strapped for the sins of the heir; whipped raw, if the error was egregious enough. 

Rodney was glad that John kept his “sins” to personal risk. Bad enough, he thought. More than once Rodney had spent days with the healers recovering from one of his Highness’ _adventures_.

“I know, I know.” John sighed, scuffing his dusty boots on the rutted path as they walked back towards the palace. “I hate it when they hit you.” John’s narrow face clenched with the trueness of his passion. “When I am King there will be no more Whipping Boys! Each of us will be responsible for his own errors.”

“Wonderful, my Prince.” Rodney smiled. He didn’t doubt for a second that John meant what he said. The fact that John was three years shy of his majority and that his father the King was hale and well didn’t diminish the tenderness Rodney felt for him at the declaration. He knew his own parents wouldn’t be as happy with the change. The King recompensed them generously for the “loss” of their son. Poor as they were, giving up that income would cost them dearly.

“Perhaps in the meanwhile, you could rein in your impulsive side some. I and my backside would be most grateful.” He looked over at the boy at his side and said with a casual nod to the teasing John had endured for years, “And you should be more careful! Dropping from such heights can lead to head injury. Or worse. You may scar your face! Where will you be then, hmm? No longer the prettiest of all the princesses in the realm, that’s where!”

John snorted, long used to Meredith’s teasing about his looks. “Yes, yes, yes. I’ll see what I can do.” A quick, sly glance up at Rodney was all the warning there was before John streaked off towards the palace. “Race you!” shouted over the quickly disappearing shoulder.

“Damnation,” Rodney growled, pushing off to try and catch up. He had no real hope of catching the Prince as he sprinted ahead. “He’ll have me flogged tonight, yet.”

Just before the two would be seen by the guards…and reported to the King…John came to a halt. Hands on knees, he struggled to gain his breath while he waited for Rodney.

“You’re getting old, Mer.” He laughed. “You used to be able to catch me on the straight section of road.” Rodney couldn’t argue; he was too winded. Besides, at two years John’s elder, he felt decidedly _ancient_ when exposed to His Highnesses hijinks. John reached over and patted him on the shoulder. “Come on then, old man. Let’s see if Cook has any of those pastries left from breakfast.”

~*~

The summer days were winding their way to a close when the King called John into his chambers to talk. 

“Your tutors return to the castle in less than a fortnight,” he began. John struggled to keep the sigh he felt trying to escape inside. “You’ve requested going to the monastery to study under Father Landry in Mathematics and We have given it thought.” John dared to hope. “Your behavior has been better this season, and you seem to be recovering from the loss of your mother the Queen.” John shifted before he could force himself into the unnatural stillness that his father required.

“Still, We believe you are too young to be away from the castle without protection and the good Fathers do not wish armed guards within the monastery walls.” The King did not see himself as an unkind man. His relationship with his son was problematic since the death of his mother, and that was understandable. Still. The boy was Crown Prince of the realm. It was time he left childhood behind. “You will continue your studies here in the castle with Master Woolsey.” 

John’s hopes were dashed, but it seemed the King was not done.

“It is Our desire that you begin weapons training with the Arms Master. You have shown an affinity for the hand-to-hand training you received this last season, and you will continue that training as well.”

“You also requested that the Whipping Boy be allowed to attend academic lessons with you. We feel this is both unnecessary and unwise. You should not be forming relationships with such persons. They are beneath your station in life, my son. To encourage them beyond their own station would be unkind. You must remember at all times that you will be their King.”

John straightened from the slouch he’d unconsciously slid into. “ _Beneath_ me, father?” John stared into his father’s face, fearless where weaker men had cowered. “I will be their King, as you say. They will be my people. The one role is lost without the other!”

King Patrick rubbed his eyes. Why was every instruction given argued against? “You are still young, my son. You do not understand the necessities that position will place upon you. Be that as it may. For the time, you simply must accept that We are both your father and your King. As such We know what is best for you and you must accede to that.”

This was the point in every argument in the past where John had backed down. No more. 

“No. The Whipping Boy, as you call him, has a name. His name is Meredith Rodney McKay. He has intelligence and dreams. He deserves a chance to better his lot in life. His family benefits by his role here, but what does _he_ gain, father? What does Meredith gain from being beaten savagely when the mood strikes my riding Master because I’ve slouched in the saddle or Cook because I didn’t eat my vegetables or any of the myriads of people in the castle that take their frustrations with me out on him because they can!”

“You are impertinent!” The Kings face purpled with rage, “how dare you speak to your King in such a way!”

“I am sorry, My Lord.” John sketched a mocking bow, “I thought I was speaking to my father. I will not make that mistake again.”

The King took a menacing step towards his son, only to be held up when the boy stepped closer himself.

“Would you like me to call the Whipping Boy, father? Would you like to inform him how blessed he is because you can beat him raw for my smart mouth? For _my_ impertinence? For _my_ disrespect? Do you think he’ll feel suitably honored, father?”

“His family has a roof over their heads, you ungrateful brat! They prosper when many of their station hunger! He should be honored!”

“If others of their _station_ hunger, father, it is a poor reflection on us as their supposed betters, not on them; not on Meredith. Yes, his family prospers, but what does _Meredith_ get out of this, oh King? When his services such as they may be are no longer needed, what is to become of him then? He is given no education, no training, no salary that he may tide away for the future. He has his meager clothes and a garret in the attic, no more. What is the benefit, then? What is the good for him?”

“We should have removed that boy from service when you began gaining this unseemly attachment! It is Our failing; We do not blame you. We will correct the matter now before this can continue.”

“Removed. That is your answer? That is the good you offer your subjects? Think hard, father, about passing the mantle of Kingship on to me. One of the first changes made would be to end this monstrous law allowing nobility to steal children to abuse so that their own can run wild.”

“You impudent wastrel! Would you take the strap yourself? Shall We call for the Disciplinarian and allow him to whip you mute as you deserve?”

“If it would spare someone taking that whipping for me? Yes! A thousand times, yes!”

“So be it. We will do as you say. Once you’ve felt the lash no doubt you will remember your place and find satisfaction there.” With that, the King tugged the bell pull to summon his aide.

“Call the Disciplinarian and bring down the Whipping Boy.”

~*~

Rodney had never seen the King in such a towering rage. _“John’s done it for me, now,”_ he thought. Where _was_ John? The king usually required that he watch the results of his actions, probably hoping it would keep them from repeating.

The door to the inner passage opened and the Disciplinarian came in with John following close behind. Rodney felt his jaw drop. John was dressed in nothing but his breaches. If Rodney didn’t know better he would assume that _John_ was the one receiving Discipline.

The King addressed Rodney directly. “Mark this moment, Whipping Boy. Your failure to remember you own place has caused your Prince to forget his. You will not feel the bite of the lash this time but it should be yours to take. Remember this moment well when I return you to your unhappy family and require the return of all monies paid to them for your failure.” 

“Discipline Master Bates. We have decided that the Prince shall receive ten lashes across his back for disrespecting his King. It is Our wish that this Discipline be conducted immediately.”

The Discipline Master looked decidedly uneasy. “My Lord, he is of Royal blood! I cannot strike him!” 

“Is it the role of everyone in the realm to argue with their King?” Patrick strode over and pulled the strap from the hapless Discipline Masters hand. “We will do the deed Ourselves, then, as Our subjects seem unable!”

“Brace yourself well, Prince John, for We shall not hold back Our temper if you cry out.”

John braced his hands against the back of his father’s chair. “I’m ready, father,” was all he said.

The sound of the strap cutting through the air and slapping against living flesh made Rodney feel faint. Funny. When it had been him taking the strap it hadn’t seemed so violent. Again and again the strap fell, far surpassing the ten blows sentenced. Faster and faster the King swung the strap until he was grunting with the effort of it. 

From Prince John there was no sound at all.

“My King, I beg you!” Rodney cried out. “Please! Whatever number of blows you deem left to the Discipline let me take them. The Prince is bleeding.”

The King’s hand halted mid-swing. The bloodied strap fell from his limp hand, his labored breathing the only sound in the room. John shook, the white knuckled grip on the chair back the only thing keeping him on his feet.

“John,” the King whispered, aghast at the damage he’d done in his fit of anger. With visible effort he pulled himself together. Turning to the shocked Discipline Master he said, “Send for the Healers,” and walked with what dignity he could from the room.

Rodney hurried over to John’s side. “My Prince? Please, let me help you sit down.”

John took a deep breath, then another. He opened and closed his mouth, unable to form words. He was saved from further effort by the arrival of the Healers.

“Ach, my God! What happened?” The Healer was a gentle, kind man who had often tended to Rodney after Discipline. 

“He took his own Discipline, Doctor.” The Discipline Master was unwillingly impressed. “It was a brave thing, and he handled it like a man.” John turned his head to look at Master Bates. “You have the makings of a King after all, Prince John.” He offered a genuine bow and withdrew, leaving John with Rodney and the Doctor. 

“Poor lad. Poor lad.” The Doctor slid a hand around John’s arm and gestured for Rodney to take the other. “Help me get him to his bed, my boy. There’s a good lad.”

~*~

Rodney had been cooped up with John for the weeks it had required for him to heal. Family and functionaries had come and gone and no one had ordered him away so he’d stayed. At first, John had needed help to do the basest of functions and had been glad for a friend near his own age to lean on. Later, as the physical wounds closed, Rodney had the experience necessary to guide the Prince through the emotional healing as well. They had grown so used to the intimacy their living arrangements had forged that they were both startled when the King entered John’s chambers unannounced.

“John.”

“My Lord,” John returned, wary.

“The Healer tells me you’ve made a good recovery and are ready to resume some activity.”

“So Doctor Beckett has informed me.” John shifted slowly to his feet. He would be equal to his father, even now.

The gesture of defiance was not lost on the King. “We have arranged for your tuition with the Father’s to begin in the morning. You will travel there with Sir Evan and his men. You will remain there, dutiful in your studies, until such time as We request that you return. Do you understand your instructions?”

“Of course, my King. You’re sending me where I wanted to go in the first place but now making it seem like a punishment for my poor behavior. What’s not to understand?”

His father held his temper only by remembering the bleeding wounds he’d left on his only sons back by venting it earlier. He forced himself to remain calm. 

“You may ask one personal favor for yourself. Whatever it is, We will grant it.”

“Thank you, father. I wish that you provide an education for Meredith that will see him in good stead now that I will be leaving the castle. If you will do this one boon for me I will need nor request anything else from you in the future.” John looked over at the companion who had shown such fierce loyalty to him. “Knowing that he will no longer suffer but will indeed prosper under whatever education Your Highness chooses for him will allow me to concentrate fully on my studies and remember Your Highness with deep appreciation.” He bowed with as much respect as he could muster to the man who had been his adversary for so long.

“So be it.” The King sighed. “Nothing for yourself, then?”

“I need nothing save your blessing, my King. I want for nothing else.”

Patrick sighed again, seeing the boy’s mother in the earnest expression and hazel eyes. “Very well. The Whipping Boy will be turned over to the Scholars in Yorktown, in the northern realms where your mother was raised. There he will report to the teaching Sisters to be trained in the Arts of Science. Should he show an aptitude for it, such training will see him set for all the years of his life. Fair enough?”

John smiled. He jostled Rodney’s shoulder. “It is indeed more than fair, father. I thank you.”

“Indeed! Thank you, Your Highness,” Rodney fell to his knee in obeisance. “Thank you.”

~*~

John stretched his back, wincing at the audible pop. He’d been bent over his final test for the term for longer than he’d hoped. He could _see_ the mathematics in his head…getting them onto the parchment seemed somewhat more difficult. Still, he was nearly there. This one last problem and then he was free for a short while before starting it all over again.

The three years under the religious Brothers tutelage had been at turns boring and exhilarating. Father Landry had taken the position that as John would one day be King, he should have a broad-based education so as to rule effectively. So John had toiled at such subjects as public speaking, politics, and history both ancient and more recent. He’d been a dutiful student if not a particularly keen one. The times spent with Brother Daniel in mathematics or Brother Ronon in swordsmanship had been far more to his liking, and his overall grades reflected that. Still, the good Father seemed happy enough with John’s progress, and by turns, so had his father.

He had not been invited to return home. He hadn’t expected to be. He received letters often from Meredith, keeping him abreast of the doings within the northern kingdom and the peoples beyond. True to his word, his father had placed Mer with the Scholars for training in the sciences. Training his friend seemed to relish. It pleased John to know that Meredith was thriving but he missed his friend. He missed the companion of his youth. He was jolted from his reverie at the abrupt entrance of Father Landry.

“John,” he began only to trail off. “Your Royal Highness,” he began again. “I am most saddened to inform you that your father the King has died. The Healers say it was his heart, Sir. I am most profoundly sorry for your loss.”

John sat, stunned. Dead. How could this be? The King had aged, yes, but he was always so strong, so in control. John shook his head to clear his thoughts. The King was gone. That meant that…

At the moment John realized he was now King, Father Landry sank down on his ancient knees to do him obeisance. “My King. I am your most humble servant.”

John stared in shock at the tonsured top of Father Landry's head. He was King. “Rise, good Father. Please, I must make plans to return to the castle. I wish to see my father.”

“Of course Your Majesty. Sir Lorne and your honor guard are here. It is they who brought the sad news of your Lord and Father’s passing. He awaits in the outer courtyard for your orders. I will have him brought to you at once.” Suiting action to word, Father Landry rose and bowed low to John before hurrying on his errand. 

Later, when the last of John’s books had been placed in the trunks for shipment, he considered the mental list he’d been working from for the last several hours. Sir Lorne would ride with him on his journey back to his boyhood home. John had requested and been granted the company of Brother Ronon and Brother Daniel. The two would act as both his companions and as tutors in his continuing education. After seeing Ronon dispatch several of his guards, Lorne had been happy enough to find mounts for the two monks. 

“We are ready to depart on your order, Highness.” Lorne stood at the doorway of the tiny cell that John had called home for more than three years. “We should make good time, arriving within the Keep before night fall tomorrow.”

John stood, dusting his knees as he straightened. As King, he could have ordered that someone see to his things, but John hadn’t forgotten his childhood declarations of change. He was a man, he would do the work of a man. He cast one last, long look around. Here is where his childhood ended.

“I’m ready, Sir Lorne.”

~*~

His people stood silent as his entourage passed by. One by one, each man touched his forelock in respect, the women curtsied. Cries of “God save the King!” followed them on their sad journey. It was gratifying that the people had respected his father enough to stand watch for him. It was good. He would see that these hard working men were rewarded for their loyalty. As they pulled to a stop at a rise in the land, he swallowed the lump in his throat and sat straighter in the saddle. Spreading out before them was his ancestral Keep, with its castle just beyond. 

After three years, John was home.

He was pleased to see his household standing by the entrance to greet him. It was a welcome sight. He craned his neck to see if one particular member of his household had returned from Yorktown. 

Noticing his King’s inspection, Sir Lorne spoke. “Highness, Master McKay sends his condolences on the loss of your father. He promises to arrive and present himself to you no later than a fortnight from now. Apparently, some science cannot be left to fend for itself in his absence.”

John could not help but smile. Yes, that sounded like Mer. “Thank you, Sir Lorne.” With that, he dismounted and approached his staff. Lorne watched in amazement as the new King took time with each individual, thanking them for their service and loyalty to his father, _asking_ for their loyalty to him, promising to earn it. Lorne shared a look with the former Discipline Master Bates. Bates had been transferred to the castle’s Regiment following young John’s education with the Brothers. He’d claimed that young John would make a good King and Lorne was beginning to agree with him.

~*~

"Time has been kind to you, Your Majesty.” The voice behind him was so familiar, so fondly remembered. John turned, already reaching to embrace his childhood friend. 

“Mer!” John looked his fill. The same blue eyes regarded him out of a face grown into manhood. Where the body below had been thin and willowy, now it was solid. “Time has been good to you as well.” He pulled Meredith to him in a brotherly embrace. “It’s good to see you, Mer. Good indeed.”

“Well, I would have been here to greet you properly but the imbeciles given me as assistants cannot be trusted not to blow up the armory without supervision.” Rodney shifted out of his Kings embrace with reluctance. He bent down, kneeling before the boy he’d played with for the whole of his childhood. “I am your most humble servant, oh King. Long may you live.”

Embarrassed, John tugged Rodney to his feet. “Mer,” he hissed. “Stop that.”

“You are my King, John. That changes things. It must.” Rodney didn’t look happy about it…John took some comfort in that.

“Mer.” He shook his head in exasperation. “I was _always_ going to be your King. I was _always_ royal. Nothing has changed. Now, stop being strange. Well, stop being stranger than normal!”

John laughed at Rodney’s outraged huff. “Strange indeed.” Rodney sniffed. “I have missed you, John. These years have been lonely ones. Your good father did not stint on my education. I have enjoyed my time of learning. I like to think I have repaid his generosity with my work on the kingdom’s behalf. I offer my services to you, John. I give them gladly should you desire them.”

“I welcome them, Mer. That goes without saying. I wonder, though. Why are you still tucked away in the northern kingdom? Surely the laboratories here within the Keep would better suit your genius?”

“Of course I would fare better within the Keep. Don’t be simple. However, your father, generous though he was, shortsightedly named Lord Kavanaugh as his Master of Science. No amount of persuasion could put him off the man. Kavanaugh is a moron, My Lord. Perhaps calling him a moron is too generous…I’ll have to think on that. My point being? There was no place for me here so I made do.”

John smiled. That was his friend! How he’d missed him. “Ah, but his Lordship carries a title! You know that was important to my father. You are but a trumped up Whipping Boy. Can’t have you as Master of Science now could he?”

Rodney scowled. “So Lord Kavanaugh has pointed out to me on numerous occasions. Still, I’ve not fared too badly in my tiny labs. I think you’ll be pleased at the drawings I’ve brought to show you. If you can spare me some time before I must take my leave, that is.”

“Take your leave? But you’ve only just arrived.” John sank down on a chair. He smirked when Rodney struggled to find lower seating to maintain the proper height before his king. Sighing theatrically, John slumped down in his seat, lowering himself below Rodney’s height again. 

Eyes wide, Rodney looked around the room as if he expected guards to pour out of the walls and arrest him for sitting taller than his King. Finally he simply slid off his seat and onto the floor, hoping John didn’t decide to lay down.

John couldn’t help but laugh. “Mer, really. When will you grasp that I don’t expect you to hold to the outdated rules my father lived by? Sit up, for God’s sake. Your back will never forgive you.” He slid across the stone floor and grasped Rodney’s arm. “Come on, up with you.” John pulled himself off the floor, dragging Rodney with him. 

"Ow, ow.” Rodney flapped his hands at John, ineffectively trying to dislodge his grip. “You’re going to leave bruises! I’m easily bruised, you know. I received quite enough of them at your Discipline Masters hands, thank you. I need no others.”

John laughed, “and _there_ is the Mer I remember!” Releasing his hold on Rodney he took a step back. “Stay here, Mer. Stay with me. I’ve missed you…missed our friendship. I’ll remove Master Kavanaugh from his post and send him off to the southernmost outpost. I’ll convince him it’s in appreciation for his outstanding service to the Crown.”

Rodney snorted. “I have heard much of the Southern realm’s facility. It is true that there is little damage Lord Kavanaugh could inflict on the Kingdom from there, but it would be difficult for even Your Majesty to convince him it was a promotion for a job well done.” The smile slid from his face as he addressed the truth of his situation with his King. “I will still be without title, Your Majesty. I cannot hold the post no matter how much I may deserve it. Your advisors will never allow it.”

“Never allow it?” Rodney shrank back from the look of cold steel in John’s normally merry eyes. “Never allow it?” he repeated. “ _I_ am king, Meredith. _I_ say what I will allow and what I will not. I refuse to buy into the notion that I must refer to myself in the royal We, I refuse to allow good, honest men to grovel at my feet, and I will decide what I will and will not allow!” 

“Return to your laboratory, Meredith. Return and pack what you will. Turn over what experiments you don’t wish to bring with you. Return to the Keep no later than a fortnight from today. When you return, submit yourself to me and we will talk then about what will be allowed.”

Rodney opened and shut his mouth several times, trying to formulate words of apology. He’d offended his friend. He’d offended his King! 

“You may leave, Meredith.” John crossed his arms over his chest. In that moment he looked very much the King he was. “Now.”

~*~

Rodney cursed. The long ride back to his laboratory had given him sufficient time to contemplate his idiocy. He’d argued with John. Argued against what he himself had longed for. Damn his own stubborn pride! He should have kept his mouth shut…let his King decide what would be. He was so used to thinking of John as his friend and confidant that he was struggling to accept him as King. John was right to be angry with him. John had sent the huge, silent Brother that had returned to the castle with him from the monastery. Rodney was not sure if Brother Ronon was his body guard or his assassin. He supposed he’d know if they returned to John with all his limbs intact.

Clutching his scrolls and diagrams, Rodney gestured towards his friend and associate to follow him into the storage room where the experimental models they’d collaborated on were stored. “I’m leaving all of these for now, Radek. I’ll call for them…call for you…when I know what my position within the Keep will be. John is angry with me at the moment. I may have been impolite. I’m not sure.”

“Yes, yes. This is a big surprise to all of us, Rodney.” Radek clucked his tongue. “Do not fear, my friend. His Majesty has been your friend for the whole of his life. He will forgive you eventually.” 

"Probably." Radek scurried out of the lab before Rodney could hurl more than invective after him.

Rodney sighed. Gathering the last of the things he felt vital for the trip he headed out to the stables to find Brother Ronon to begin the long, cold ride back to the Keep.

~*~

John had not enjoyed meeting with his ‘advisors’ since assuming the throne. His formal coronation was approaching though, and they never seemed to tire of meeting with _him_. Sighing, he resigned himself to another long, tedious affair with much nattering on about meaningless protocol that he had no intention to adhere to. The sooner they all accepted that the better.

“Lord Caldwell, Lord Kavanaugh, Lord Makepeace. Lady Elizabeth. Please. Be seated.”

The members of his court looked nervously at each other. Surely His Highness didn’t intend that they _sit_ in His royal Presence?

“As you requested this meeting I am assuming you had something to say. Be that the case, sit. Sit and tell me what you need me to know. If you are waiting for the outdated display of _pluralis majestatis_ you will have a long wait indeed. I am but one man. I cannot speak for the whole of the Kingdom, not for the whole of the Keep! There will be those that disagree with me…am I to assume that I speak for them? No. I am your King. I speak as your King. You will obey my edicts or suffer the consequences but you can and most likely will disagree with me on occasion.”

John leaned forward, sparing the Lady Elizabeth a smile as she slid into her chair. Her answering smile warmed him through. “Disagreement with my choices does not mean that you are traitors to the Crown. Disobedience does. Do you understand the difference?”

When his advisors all managed a nod and finally moved to take their seats, John sat back with a sigh.

“I’m going to be making changes, my Lords. This? Is just the beginning.” He took a moment to look each of his father’s closest friends in the eye before continuing. “My father trusted you. You were his confidants. I’m hoping that you will continue to advise me in matters of Kingly law that I am not aware of. Be prepared, though. I am not my father, may he rest in eternal peace. I will not do things simply because that is the way it has always been. Now. What is it you needed to meet with me about?”

~*~

“Master Meredith McKay, Your Majesty.” 

Rodney edged past the liveried herald, eyeing him with deep suspicion.

“Yes, yes. I’m here. You told me to come and I did. Are we friends again now?”

The courtiers gasped as one at his rudeness. John tried very hard to hang onto his displeasure but the very _Rodneyness_ made that impossible.

“Yes, Mer. We’re friends again.” John stepped down from his throne and strode over to where Rodney stood. 

Swallowing hard, Rodney bowed low before his King. He was aware that it wouldn’t make John happy but here, in front of his courtiers and advisors, he wanted to show John the respect his position and person deserved.

“It is my real and true pleasure to present myself to you, my King. Your wish is my command.”

John eyed Rodney before gesturing towards a sallow, pinched man standing near the food tables. “Lord Kavanaugh. May I present Master Meredith Rodney McKay. You share an interest in the sciences, I believe.”

“My King. I am quite sure that _Master_ McKay is a very gifted hobbyist. I, however, am a scientist. We share nothing.”

John watched with amusement as Mer swelled with righteous indignation, he found himself speaking in defense of his friend. “Indeed? A hobbyist, you say? It would seem the finest scientific teachers in my Kingdom would disagree with you, Lord Kavanaugh. They awarded him a Master of Science degree in just three short years…without the benefit of the education you received at your father’s knees. I find your arrogance disconcerting, Kavanaugh, for I have the reports of Mer’s Teaching Masters and the drawings and schematics that he brought me to back up his claims as genius. What can you offer to support your own?”

Kavanaugh’s face bleached pale like the bones of the ancient beasts Brother Daniel found so fascinating. “Proof, My King? How can you doubt my loyalty and worthiness as your Master of Science? Your father himself appointed me such! I have served you faithfully since!”

“Loyalty is a wonderful thing, my dear Kavanaugh.” John smiled. He’d been told by Brother Ronon that it was as good a weapon as the staves he used in his hand-to-hand training. He watched with satisfaction while Kavanaugh paled further. John turned his attention to Mer, who’d been standing silently by, and shared a different, more personal smile with him. “Loyalty shown the Crown is never deemed unworthy.” 

“I have decided to reward your loyalty, my Lord. You will be taking over the laboratories in the Southern realms. I am without doubt that once there your genius will be utilized to its full potential.”

“Southern realms, Your Majesty?” Kavanaugh squeaked. “But the Keep holds the finest laboratory in twenty kingdoms! It is renowned beyond the seas! Your father appointed me! You can’t send me away…I won’t have it!”

John surged up forward as if to strike, sending the distraught scientist to his knees in fear. “ _You_ will not have it? My Lord, over the last several weeks many people have told me what I will do and what they cannot have. Let me assure you, I am your King and as such _I_ will decide what you will have.”

Kavanaugh's throat worked as he fought through his panic. “Yes, Your Majesty. Forgive my thoughtlessness. I look forward to the challenge of my new position in your service.”

John smiled, wide and evil. “Yes. I’m sure you do.”

~*~

John stood in front of the mirror, scowling as his dressers moved around him fussing with the hang and fit of his cloak and other raiment. “I’m sure the fit is more than adequate. You may leave me.” John shooed the fluttering attendants towards the door. “Go on, go on. I’m fine.” He stepped off the dais he’d been posing on for what seemed hours and crossed to his newly appointed Master of Sciences. 

“You look very Royal indeed, Your Majesty.” Rodney smiled. It was the day of John’s official coronation. It marked his first public speech, one that he’d agonized over and made Rodney listen to time and again to ensure it covered what he wanted said. Rodney was proud of his friend. Proud of his King. It simply wouldn’t do for any of that pride to show, however. Standards must be preserved. “You are no doubt the prettiest of all the Princesses in the Realm.” 

John was startled into a laugh, causing his honor guard to look their way. John shared a smile with Brother Ronon, who had taken it upon himself to become John’s unofficial bodyguard. Nothing John had done or said had dissuaded the monk from his self-assigned task.

“My King,” Sir Lorne approached. “The Archbishop has indicated that they are ready to begin.”

Straightening his shoulders, John brought himself stiffly under control. “I am ready.”

~*~

“I stand before you this day as your King. My father loved you, and led you ably. For all His goodness and service to His Kingdom, he was not a perfect man. He made mistakes.” The gathered Dukes, Earls and Grandees present drew in a collective breath.

“I am not a perfect man. I too will make mistakes. As your King, I can promise only that I will tirelessly work to correct any and all that I do make. My life I dedicate from this day to the service of my people. All of my people. For I look at the lowliest of my serfs as equals to the highest born sitting in this room. No boon or favor shall be given you that will not be given to them.” John could feel the shifting of his advisors as they absorbed the unpopular words. He would no doubt suffer through more ‘meetings’ to discuss his prudence. So be it.

“From this day forward, no man shall suffer blows for failing to bow before me as I pass by. No man shall suffer the loss of his lands without just compensation. No man shall be sent to debtors’ prison without access to legal recourse. And no child shall be taken from the ranks of the poor to serve as Whipping Boy for those of royal blood. Let it be known that each one will carry his own load! Sin and the lash will be your own to endure. I have signed the necessary decrees and the Heralds have gone forth with the proclamation. All shall hear the glad news.”

John took the time to meet the eyes of those sitting below him. “There will be those who disagree with my decree. I am prepared to meet with any who have legitimate questions. No one will be punished for disagreeing with the Crown. No one will be punished for those legitimate questions. But know this! Punishment will be swift and terrible for any who feel they do not need to obey me.” John caught the gaze of the Lady Elisabeth. Her kindness to his own mother was a balm to his soul and the sight of her nodding her agreement was further solace to him. 

“We are standing on the brink of a new dawn. The day stretches ahead of us, filled with hope. Stride forward with me as we take on the challenges of this new day. We are a wonderful people. Strong, intelligent, kindly to those in need. We will prosper in the coming day as never before if we work together.” John stood from his throne, his golden crown shining.

“Who stands with me?”

The roar of the assembled crown was gratifying. John nodded his approval even as Brother Ronon noted those whose acceptance was less than enthusiastic. It was good. Those ones would bear watching. 

~*~

John leaned back against the table, watching Meredith organize his new laboratory space to suit him. 

“Kavanaugh is a moron. The Southern realms will no doubt sink into the sea under the weight of his stupidity.” Scowling, Rodney slammed another one of the heavy volumes he was unpacking onto the shelf above the table. “This lab wasn’t set up for optimum efficiency. It will take me the rest of the week to organize things and get my minions working again.” Sighing, he turned to look at his King.

“What are you smirking at, Sheppard? I’ll have you know, I could be making breakthroughs in technology that would revolutionize the known worlds! Instead? I’m dusting bookshelves! Think of the loss to humanity! What? Stop laughing! I’m serious!”

John straightened, swallowing his laughter with difficulty. “I can see that you are.” It was like old times. Meredith bewailing the state of his life, John egging him on. How John had missed it.

“When will your fellow Scientist arrive?”

“Zelenka should be here the day after tomorrow. Packing up the models and experiments for safe travel took much longer than expected. Still. Better safe than sorry.”

“It would make a fine motto, Mer. We should have it engraved in stone and mounted over the lintel.” John pushed off the table and walked over to where Rodney was frowning at yet another giant tome. “Come away, Mer. Enough of the housekeeping for now. It’s too fine a day to be trapped in doors. Let’s go for a ride. Or we could climb a tree!”

“Climb a tree? What are you, twelve?” Rodney set the book down and eyed his King with disfavor. “I have far too much work to do to run and frolic with you, Your Majesty. You’ll just have to find another playmate for the time being.”

“Now, now. You know you mustn’t argue with your King,” John teased. “Don’t force me to issue a decree. I’m getting pretty good at them, you know. I’ll do it if need be.”

Rodney snorted. “Power is obviously going to your head.” He slid the last of the crate of books onto the shelf and turned to face his friend. “And what does Your Majesty wish to do while we ‘frolic’?”

Shouts from the hall beyond cut off any answer John had planned. Rushing into the laboratory, Sir Lorne came to a skidding halt before John. “My King. Insurgents from the Southern Realm have taken the Keep. The soldiers have been caught unawares and are trapped in the barracks. We have only the garrison attached to the castle itself, barely two dozen men. I beg of you to stay here, along with Master Meredith, while we fight back the insurgents.”

John turned to see that Brother Ronon and Brother Daniel where present. He smiled at the two, knowing that the three of them combined where worthy of two dozen others. “An adventure after all, heh Brothers?” 

“Indeed, Your Majesty.” Brother Daniel stood from where he’d settled against the wall. “Sir Lorne, are the back stairs clear to the armories?”

Lorne, to his credit, gathered his wits quickly. The idea that his King and two teaching Brothers seemed determined to fight was absorbed and accepted rapidly. Ronon, for one, appreciated that about him. “We need to keep the King safe, Brother. He is without heir at this time.” 

“Sir Lorne, you surprise me. Where is the brave soldier that trained me so ably when I was a boy?” John kept his gaze on Lorne, formal and yes, regal. He thought that airing his ideas for an elected monarch, one chosen by the majority, would best be saved for a later time. “Surely you haven’t forgotten that I have just as much battle training as any of your soldiers? Now. Answer Brother Daniel. Are the stairs to the armories clear or not?”

Lorne straightened. “Yes, my King. The insurgents are not within the castle.” He gestured towards the door, “If you will allow me to lead, Your Highness, it would go far in relieving my anxiety over your inclusion.” He winced. Such freeness of speech would be enough to have him arrested with the late King. He hoped young John had meant his high words from his coronation.

“Lead on, Sir Lorne.” John looked at Rodney. “Mer, I am unsure of your inclusion. I don’t know how much weapons training you’ve had, so speak plainly. Will you be an asset or a hindrance?”

“An asset, Sheppard. Always. I have some of my most interesting samples waiting for your approval in the armory. I think you’ll find them very helpful in your quest to retake the Keep.” Rodney paused, rethinking what he’d said. “Of course, I’m too valuable to be cannon fodder, just so you know. I’m more of a lead from behind sort of genius.” 

John had to smile. “Understood, Mer. Shall we go? We have a rebellion to quell, people to save, adventures to be had.”

~*~

John stared down at the weapon he held in his hands. “Mer, let me be sure of this. This beauty fires projectiles nearly a thousand meters. And by engaging this…” he stroked his fingers over the bulbous attachment to the stock, “it will fire repeatedly until all the ammunition is spent.”

Watching the look of avarice in his friends’ eyes brought a strange warmth that spread from his belly to his face. Rodney crossed his arms to distance himself until he could conquer the odd sensation. Before he could bluster a reply Brother Daniel drew attention away by addressing John himself.

“My King, you know I do not doubt your abilities on the field of battle. I have suffered many a blow at your hand and know only too well how skilled you are with both sword and staff. This new weapon is wondrous to be sure, but you have not handled it in battle. It would be foolish on your part to risk your life when you have given it to your people. Allow Brother Ronon or Sir Lorne to use the untested weapon. The battle is still yours to command…but I ask that you think rationally before you act.”

The gathered troops were astounded that the Brother would speak so freely. More astounded still when John seemed to be pondering his words carefully. 

“I understand what you’re trying to say, Brother. I do. But neither Ronon nor Evan are versed in this weapons uses, either. Am I to place them in harm’s way to protect myself? I who have railed against the use of Whipping Boys? No. I am both King and leader of my armies. It is as it has always been. It is a tradition I would not see changed, for it is my duty to protect my people up to and including the cost of my life. I trust Mer with that life. He would not place this weapon in my hands if it weren’t tested a thousand times, for he is an old woman when it comes to my safety.” He spared a smile for the furious huff that comment elicited. “I will handle the weapon, you and Brother Ronon will have your staffs, Sir Lorne and his men their bows and swords. No more argument. We move. Now.”

~*~

The weapon handled magnificently. Of course. Master Scientist Meredith Rodney McKay would have it no other way. The shock on the faces of those on the front lines had been worth the scolding Sir Lorne had given him for rising above the barricades to look. 

The rebellion had been quickly routed…at the hand of 24 soldiers, Sir Lorne, Brother Ronon, Brother Daniel, Mer and himself. John bounced a little as he stood with his men, proud to the point of bursting. He watched with malicious glee while his security team led the captives down into the dungeons to await trial. 

“Wait.” John’s attention was pulled back to Mer at his outraged command.

“Mer?” 

“Your Majesty, I have done all but go to my knees and beg you to stop calling me that!” Rodney huffed an exasperated breath. “But you’re not going to…I can see you enjoy causing me angst. No, no. Don’t bother to deny it. It’s been a part of your core personality since we were boys…”

“Mer!” John said sharply, trying to stop the growing rant before he was reminded of every failing he’d ever had in the eyes of one Meredith McKay.

“What? Oh. Yes. Not the time.” He colored lightly and smiled in apology for John, who was bearing the fond looks of his small company with bemused patience.

“Was there a reason you called a halt to the transfer of prisoners, Mer?”

“What? Oh! Yes, yes. Kavanaugh.” Seeing the confusion on his Kings face Rodney scrambled to be clearer. “Lord Kavanaugh, John. That’s him, there. In the false beard and cowl.”

Sir Lorne stepped up the man Rodney had indicated and pulled the cowl back from his head. A tug and the false beard came away leaving the ashen faced Lord in its wake.”

“Lord Kavanaugh it is. Good catch, Mer.” John circled around the now deeply frightened scientist. “What is your part in this, Kavanaugh? Why have you attacked your King?”

“My King is dead. You are nothing but an upstart! You should have never ascended the throne and you’ll be the ruin of the Kingdom if you are not stopped. Letting this lunatic McKay be your Master of Science? Insanity! You’ll all be dead in a fortnight.” Kavanaugh pulled himself straighter, assuming a haughty height so he could look down upon John where he stood before him. “You’ll regret sending me away, oh mighty King. McKay will prove how unsuited he is and you’ll rue the day you sent me away.” 

John’s delighted bark of laughter wasn’t what the angry scientist was expecting. “Oh, my dear Lord Kavanaugh. How wrong you are. The weapon that dispatched your little rebellion was just one of the wonders Mer brought with him from the Northern Realms. I could not regret his appointment as Master of Science, and he will be amply rewarded for both his genius and his loyalty.” He smiled his most gloriously evil smile. It pleased him greatly to see the smarmy man before him pale yet further. “But what reward is suitable for you, Lord Kavanaugh. What would sting the most?” John stroked his hand over his chin, as if deep in thought. “I think we need to gather your friends, family and associates for what that reward might be, don’t you Calvin? It’s acceptable for me to call you Calvin, isn’t it?” At the man’s shaky nod John continued. “Yes. We’ll have all you know gather in the throne room. Do it right.” Turning to his friends he asked. “Who do I ask about this sort of thing, anyway?”

~*~

A hush fell over the gathered scientists, toadies and what family would claim Lord Kavanaugh as their own when John entered the throne room and took his place before them. Taking their places behind him, Brother Ronon and Rodney smirked at each other while watching the assembled masses try to decide if they should bow (John’s father’s approach to proper etiquette) or not (John’s preferred method). Giving in to the pull of tradition, the majority shuffled into reluctant bows. 

At the King’s gesture, guards brought Lord Kavanaugh in and stationed him before John. Glaring out over the bent heads in the audience, John sat down on the decorative…though highly uncomfortable…throne with a snort of disgust. Morons. He craned his neck to catch Mer’s eye, “You’d think they’d pay attention when I send messengers hither on yon across the Kingdom.” 

“They’re all related to Lord Kavanaugh, my King. You’ll have to give them credit for not becoming hopelessly lost along the way.” John pointed his finger at Mer. This was a fact. With a shared smile for encouragement, John turned his attention to his ‘guests’.

“Most of you have no doubt heard of Lord Kavanaugh’s sedition against the Crown.” A hiss of whispered shock traveled through the crowd. “Or perhaps not.” John shifted. A new throne was going to be next on his agenda. How did his father _sit_ in this thing? “Having been replaced as Master Scientist, Lord Kavanaugh lent his ‘expertise’ to those who would rebel against my rule.” He chose to ignore Mer’s snort at John’s use of Kavanaugh’s descriptors. “For his sin, I hereby strip him of his titles, degrees and position.” John let his eyes settle upon Lady Kavanaugh and her young son. She stood tall, and John admired that. There was no love lost between the former Lord and his Lady. John knew it to be an arranged marriage, and an unhappy one. He had no desire to harm her or hers in punishing Kavanaugh.

“It has been decided that Lady Kavanaugh shall retain the lands and holdings formerly those of her husband. These are to be held in trust for the young Lord Kavanaugh until he reaches his majority. The former Lord Kavanaugh is to have no boon or favor from those lands or holdings. Failure to obey in this matter will result in the loss of what I freely give today.” Lady Kavanaugh gripped her son’s shoulder to hold herself upright. “Thank you, Your Majesty,” she curtsied prettily. “It will be just as you say.” “Thank you, my King,” the young Lord piped up, unbidden. A good start, thought John. 

Turning his attention back to the now red-faced traitor standing before him. “Lord Kavanaugh. You conspired against your King, against the Kingdom that has fed and housed you the whole of your life. For your sin, I sentence you to twenty years in the house of corrections. There, you will find your talents employed for the betterment of your fellow countrymen. Failure to work with diligence will be met with displeasure by the Crown. Do not fail me again, Kavanaugh. I haven’t yet ordered a man executed. Don’t make yourself the first.”

~*~

“What will you have Kavanaugh do in the house of corrections, my King?” asked Brother Daniel. He was sorry to have missed the tribunal. He was impressed with his young King’s generosity to Lady Kavanaugh, still more impressed with his leniency towards the former Lord himself. His father would have had him executed in the public square and hanged outside the gates as a deterrent to others who would try the same.

“The sewers of the castle and Keep are in need of upgrading. I took note that one of the plans that Mer brought to his new position is for running water and flushing commodes.” A raised eyebrow showed how intriguing the thought of such was. “The plan calls for a great deal of digging…” John tailed off, joining in the laughter that had erupted. 

John sobered, looking around to find his Master of Science. “Mer. Come stand before me, please.”

Rodney took his position before his King. “Kneel, please.” Rodney caught himself before he questioned or argued with the command, for command it was, no matter the kindly way it was issued.

“Have some mercy on my knees, my King. I’m not as young as you.” Rodney sank to them with grace, belying his words.

“I’ll be gentle.” John gestured to Brother Ronon who stepped to the side of his King and drew a sword from within the folds of his habit. He handed it to John and stepped back with Brother Daniel.

“Master Scientist Meredith Rodney McKay. For your selfless acts of kindness to the Crown and to me I dub you Sir Meredith of Atlantis, with all the lands and holdings thereof.” John set the sword gently down on Rodney’s shoulders, right then left. “Rise, Sir Meredith, and take your place with my advisors.”

Rodney rose. He stood before his friend and gaped in wonderment. Sir Meredith. Titled. He was a titled land owner…a rich man, if he remembered the Atlantis estates clearly. The former Whipping Boy was now a peer of the Crown. Without conscious thought, Rodney sank yet again to his knees, bowing his head in silent devotion to his King. “Thank you. Thank you, Your Highness, for remembering your promise from so many years before. For remembering your friend with such generous spirit. I will not fail you or the trust you place in me. Not ever.”

John stepped down from his throne and knelt beside his friend. “I know you will not fail me, Mer. I know it like I know my face in the mirror.” He took hold of Rodney’s arm, feeling the tremors running through it. “Rise, my dear, dear friend. Rise and face me as a friend should.” Rodney stood, leaning a little into his friend. “That’s better. This, this is as it should be. Face-to-face as equal men before God.” He patted Rodney’s arm gently before stepping back. 

Rodney squared his shoulders. “Yes, well. Some of have prettier faces than others, you know. It’s much easier to look upon yours than mine.”

“Why Mer! Did you just say you think I’m pretty?” John laughed. His attendants joined, rolling their eyes at the old joke at John’s expense.

“Yes, yes. You’re still the prettiest princess in all the Realm, and well you know it.” Rodney pulled his friend into a tight embrace. “I will follow you into Hell and beyond, John. I will stand with you against all enemies. I will give you my best advice and I will work for the betterment of your peoples until my dying day.” Rodney flushed at the passion he’d displayed. “Now. As long as we’re done with the poetic part of our day, shouldn’t there be some sort of feast to honor me? I’m fairly sure it’s in the bylaws somewhere.”

Brother Ronon’s hearty agreement was met with more laughter. John smiled again. He’d not been this carefree since the time he’d spent wandering the grounds with Meredith as a boy. The burden of his Kingship didn’t seem so onerous now. “We will indeed celebrate your gloriousness with a feast, Mer. To be sure you have earned it. Still, I have one more bit of palace business to conduct before we retire to the dining rooms.”

“Once long ago, my father granted me one boon for myself. I grant you one now, Meredith. Ask anything of me and it will be so, up to one half of all my Kingdom. It is little enough to give for the life you’ve given in my service.” He reached out, placing his hand on Rodney’s chest. “Ask, Mer.”

Rodney placed his own hand over that which rested against his breast. He looked into John’s eyes and spoke from his heart. 

“I ask only one thing from you my King. Should you find it in your good heart to grant it I shall need nor want anything from you in the future, save your blessing.” John snorted. He heard the echo of his own earnest words, so long ago.

“Ask then, Mer, and it will be yours.”

“All I ask of Your Majesty is that…” Rodney clasped the hand under his, “…you never again call me Meredith! I’ve asked you a thousand times, my King. Do you listen? No you do…”

“Rodney!” 

Rodney gaped. It worked. Praise be to the saints above. It worked! “Yes, my King?”

John shook his head, laughing along with the rest. “Let’s go eat. You’re looking a little peaky.”

“Yes, my King.” Rodney reluctantly released the hand clasped in his. “Anything you say.”


End file.
